ZURI

“Come in.” Denny’s voice was muffled through the door.

I pushed it open, smiling when I saw him holding a half-eaten apple by the window. The afternoon light traced sharp lines across his face. He looked tired, worn in that quiet way people do when they haven’t slept enough or overthought.

Denny’s space always reflected his state of mind. Right now, it was a bit scattered and messed up, so I knew for sure that his mind was a mess.

“Do you ever rest?” I asked softly.

He ...